Page 21

Shadow Flight (The Shadow Series) Page 21

by Christine Feehan


Ricco gave a small shrug. “You’re the head of the family. We like to keep it that way. And someone needs to stay back just in case there’s a fuckup and Valdez has an army that slips through. Who do we have on Francesca and Crispino, Sasha, Grace?”

“We have the best bodyguards in the world,” Stefano said. “We’re all going to be in the shadows. They’ll be guarding the women. I think we’re done here. Are there any questions?”

No one had any. When Stefano decreed something, it was rarely questioned. They had their assignments, and they were going to move on them fast. This time there would be no private jets and no parties. No alibis and paparazzi. They would ride the shadows to their destination from their homes, so it would appear as if they had gone inside and were in for the night. There would be no way to trace them to the “kill zone.” Valdez wouldn’t have a clue what had happened to his men, and neither would the cops, who would try to piece together the puzzle of who was killing off the Demons by breaking their necks one by one.

Nicoletta stayed in her chair in front of the fireplace while Taviano walked the others out. It was late afternoon, but the sun was still high in the sky and pouring beams down on the shrubbery. Through the panels of glass, she could see flowers lifting petals toward the rays. It was a beautiful sight. She looked around her. Everything in Taviano’s house was beautiful. His home was peaceful. A work of art.

She could see why he had chosen the location, away from the city. There were no sounds of traffic. No noises other than the soothing symphony of nature. His home was hidden away from the world. Tucked up into the hillside, it was nearly impossible to spot until one was right up on it. The house felt cool, as if the hill and the woods protected it from the sun. The fireplace gave the illusion of heat even though there were no flames at the moment. The sunshine made her feel warm enough.

Taviano returned to her, a big man. Gorgeous. She would never tire of looking at him. She couldn’t believe he was hers. That he really had fallen in love with her, but it was there in his eyes. She could get lost there.

“You told me you loved me.”

“I do love you. The wonder is that you didn’t know.”

She thought the wonder was that he loved her. She wasn’t yet that cool, confident woman that she was determined to become. “I’m not always going to be fragile.”

Was that the reason? He was a Ferraro, and the men in that family were naturally dominant. They protected their women. She wasn’t ever going to be a Francesca, or a Grace. She couldn’t be sweet like Mariko, no matter how hard she tried. Sasha was the most like her, but even Sasha …

Nicoletta sighed. “I need to be strong, Taviano. So strong.”

“You already are much stronger than you think, Nicoletta, but I understand what you mean. We have the training room, the gym and the meditation room. I’ll do everything I can to give you whatever it is you need to build your confidence in your skills until you believe in yourself.”

That hit her like an arrow straight to her heart, and she pressed her hand hard over her chest because she ached. He was wonderful. He had always given her everything. No matter what she did to push him away. Because she’d been so scared, because she’d thought she was so ugly and so covered in the layers of filth her step-uncles and Benito had visited on her, she hadn’t wanted Taviano anywhere near her. Her golden man.

“Stefano is going with us to evaluate me, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

His tone was mild. He didn’t hesitate or attempt in any way to lie to her. She loved him all the more for that.

“I’m going to get sick the way I did before.”

Taviano shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. You handled it. He’ll see that you handled being in the shadows and moving from one to the next. You’ll be fine if you remember everything we’ve talked about, especially the breathing. You have to stay on top of that.”

He was so matter of fact it was impossible to have a panic attack. It was impossible to think Stefano would decree she wasn’t good enough to keep training. He hadn’t sidelined her. He was allowing her to go along. In a way, she was grateful. The Demons chapter in Chicago had to be somewhat significant. She didn’t want Taviano to face them alone and she didn’t know how to make the Ferraro signature kill they all would be using. Having Stefano along ensured Taviano’s safety. Above all else, she wanted that.

Heart pounding, she moistened her bottom lip. She wanted to be daring with him. She wanted to give him something huge. He deserved a brave, courageous partner. He deserved so much more than she was at that moment, but she was determined to grow and keep growing. She reached out to him, and he immediately wrapped his larger fingers around her hand. He made her feel delicate when she never had before.

He gently tugged until she was out of the chair and standing close to him, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest. Just that slight contact sent those little lightning strikes forking through her body in every direction. Where did women get confidence? Where did they learn to be sexy? She wanted that not just for herself but for Taviano. She wanted it with every breath she drew, but she couldn’t quite gain the courage to lift her gaze to his.

He cupped her chin with exquisite gentleness, his thumb brushing along her lower lip. “I dream about biting this lip.” He bent his head and brushed a kiss along her mouth. A brief, barely there contact, gone far too soon. “And then kissing away the sting.”

She wanted to have the courage to challenge him to do it. More, she wanted to go up on her toes and bite his lower lip and kiss away the sting. She nearly did it. She actually rose on her toes, leaning into him so her breasts pushed against his chest, melting into him, her nipples two hard, aching buds. If the sensation hadn’t been so acute, she might have succeeded, but she got stuck right there, her breath caught in her lungs, her pulse pounding between her legs.

Taviano took her mouth, somewhere between gentle and passionate. She wanted passionate and she went for it, kissing him back, her tongue shyly exploring, teasing his, dueling for a moment and then following his lead. She didn’t know much about kissing—there were never kisses involved before, there was never anything to ensure she felt pleasure—so every sensation was new and shocking to her. She savored every single one.

Flames seemed to course through her blood, spreading through her body like a wildfire out of control. “I believe you promised me something.” She whispered it, because she could barely say the words, but she wanted to experience everything he’d declared he’d do to her. She wanted it for both of them, but mostly to prove to herself that she could be a woman to her man. She could share passion with him. She could eventually make love with him. The horror of her past didn’t have to destroy her future with the man she loved.

He kissed his way over her chin and down her throat. “I did? What did I promise you, amore mio? I always keep my promises.”

Heart pounding, her fists clenched in his shirt, she closed her eyes, her head tilted back so he could kiss wherever he wanted. Little electrical sparks seemed to be dancing over her skin. She wanted more. She didn’t know anything could make her feel so alive and so feminine. His mouth on her throat, moving down to the curve of her breasts, made her feel as if she were a goddess and he was worshiping her.

“What did I promise?” he prompted again.

His chin nudged her top down, the bristles on his jaw scraping sensually over her sensitive skin, sending urgent demands thrumming through her body, straight to her sex. She felt the clench of need, a wave of desire dampening her panties and pounding through her clit.

“You said you would devour me.” She managed the whisper on a gasp as he suckled right through her bra. She couldn’t help cradling his head to her, his dark hair falling over her arm as she held him to her breast. She wanted more. She needed more. Her entire body was one living flame. “Taviano.” She heard the raw ache in her voice.

That scared her. She was all but seducing him. She was seducing him, begging him to take thing
s further, and yet she didn’t know if she could really do anything with him. What if she couldn’t? What if she panicked?

Before she could pull back, Taviano was already kissing his way up her throat to her chin, and then he took her mouth. When he was kissing her, there was no way to think. It was impossible to do anything but wrap her arms around his neck and give herself to him. She was lost there, kissing him back, giving him everything she was. Every kiss seemed better, hotter than the one before, so perfect.

Taviano shifted her enough to slide one arm under her bottom and he lifted her, his mouth still commanding hers. He carried her so easily through the house, kissing her as they went, making her feel as light as air. She felt as if she floated through the house, his arms around her, his kisses transporting her to a world of pure sensuality—one she wanted to know intimately. One she wanted to live in with Taviano.

He had to hold her up when he put her feet on the floor. She clung to him, her legs feeling as if they were shaky. When she looked up at his face, the light coming through the windows shone on him and he looked like a fallen angel. His dark hair spilled across his forehead in sharp contrast to the deep blue of his eyes.

The dark intensity of his focused look when it settled on her upturned face shook her. He looked like sensuality personified. Every line in his face was carved deep with a sensual lust that bonded with the dark blue of his eyes, sending her heart racing. Her body went into some kind of weird meltdown. A thousand butterflies took wing in her stomach as it did a crazy slow roll. He could make her nipples peak with that dark intensity every time.

“I don’t know what to do, Taviano.” She only knew that she had to do something. He had to do something. Her body was so hot and uncomfortable, every cell inflamed—for him. “What if I can’t do this? What if I ruin everything?”

Taviano pointed to the bed. “Just kneel up on the bed, piccola. I love the way the light hits you. You look so beautiful. Face the window and look out. The wind is picking up. It always does this time of day.” He gestured toward the bed. “You can’t ruin anything, Nicoletta, because there is no wrong or right in our bedroom. There is only the two of us and what we decide to do together.”

Dio, this man. Her man. She loved him more than life itself. She could do anything for him. She let him distract her. Let him help her over the first of the hurdles, because she was determined to give them both this time together.

Light streaked through the glass, hitting the bed from all the rows of windows and sliders, lighting up the duvet so that it shone like a watery image, almost as if it were a lily pad floating. Nicoletta hadn’t noticed that the night before or in the morning when she’d awakened. She slid her palm over it in wonder. The texture of the duvet was soft like velvet, yet cooler. The swirling greens and blues with the sun playing over them really did appear to move like water. Everything in the house, even the linens, was art. She knelt up onto the bed, hiking up the skirt so her bare legs would feel the soft coolness of the fiber.

“Let me see your skin in the sun, tesoro.”

His voice had dropped an octave, sounding like seduction itself. Now his voice brushed over her skin like velvet. She didn’t need to feel the texture of the duvet when his tone could give her that sensual feeling.

“Do you feel the sun on you right through the glass? Just slip off your top and bra. Your skin is so beautiful. I’m not going to do anything but look at you. If you want, I’ll go sit over there in the chair so you can feel safe.”

He didn’t wait for her to have to make the decision, he simply did so, removing his jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair before slipping into one of the two deep-backed comfortable chairs placed close together for morning coffee just inside, close to the slider leading to the terrace.

Nicoletta felt his eyes on her. She liked him watching her. She had always liked the way he focused so completely on her. He made her feel beautiful even when she’d never believed in herself. Now, she felt her nipples peak. Her breasts ached. Between her legs she grew damp and needy. It was okay because she was safe with him. She loved him all the more for making her feel it was all right to explore being sensual and not worry that she was going too far or teasing him and then refusing to go any further. Taviano didn’t seem to put any limits on her—or expectations.

He didn’t hurry her or insist. She knew if she crawled off the bed and got into his lap it would be okay and they’d try another day. Instead, she boldly unbuttoned her blouse, one little pearl button at a time. At first she was breathless. Scared. Then she slowed down and felt daring. Then she met his eyes and felt sexy. She let the material slide from her shoulders down to the duvet.

Before she could lose her nerve, she reached to the front of her bra where the little hooks were and quickly lifted them to spill her generous breasts free. She didn’t look at him but at the woods where the wind was playing through the leaves, stirring them up, lifting them, the way her breathing was lifting her breasts.

“You have such a beautiful, feminine form. Truly beautiful, tesoro. Look down and see my mark on you. I love seeing it on you. If you were ever to be painted in the nude, I would want my mark on your breast, just like that.”

She couldn’t help it. She had already looked in the mirror a dozen times at it. She looked down at the dark reddish slash that declared she was his. Her hand crept under her breast to lift the soft weight higher, while her fingers traced the mark lovingly. A fresh flood of liquid heat formed between her legs and she wanted to rub her thighs together at the pulsing there.

With one hand, Taviano loosened his tie and then removed it. She liked that. She liked that just looking at her made him shift in his chair. She could see the bulge in the front of his trousers, and she liked that she had put that there. So far, panic hadn’t crept in, but he was across the room from her and he’d given his word that she was safe. Taviano always kept his word.

“You ready for the next step or do you want to stop here?”

She ached inside. She ached for both of them. Her heart raced, but that was to be expected. All the while they’d sat through the meeting, Taviano’s hand had been in her hair or at the back of her neck. Sometimes he had touched her thigh. Or her arm. She’d been so acutely aware of him. Mostly, she’d kept thinking about his declaration, that he was going to devour her. Eat her like candy. She wanted that. She wanted to experience what other women had. And she wanted to experience it with him. Just the thought had her aching so much between her thighs that she shook her head without thinking.

She took a deep breath and leapt off the cliff. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Lie back and take off your skirt and then your panties. Just lie in the sun for a few minutes and feel it on your skin. Let me look at you.”

Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. Could she do that? Could she do that for both of them? Was she that brave? She didn’t have to take off her skirt. Taviano wasn’t forcing her. He wasn’t commanding her. There was no demand in his voice. She asked. He answered. She could pretend she was sunbathing in the nude. She’d done it before. More than once she’d done it. She’d been completely alone in Lucia’s fenced backyard and she’d taken her clothes off in order to prove to herself she was that brave and to check if the pull of the shadows was greater without her clothes on, although she’d been so scared she’d only managed to make herself put her foot into the shadows.

Tentatively, while still on her knees, she shimmied the skirt down her hips, taking her underwear with it. When she brought them over her thighs, she turned sideways so she could slip them over her knees and down her legs to remove them. She was totally nude but not lying down. If she did, she would have to choose whether to lie down so her body faced him or not.

It was terrifying. Yet thrilling. Sexy as all hell because it was Taviano. He didn’t say a single word. It was her choice. She hated and loved that it was her choice—that he gave her that. If he didn’t, she couldn’t possibly have gone through with it, but be
cause he sat very still, a distance away from her, utterly silent with the exception of his steady breathing, she was able to match her breathing to his and slowly stretch her body across that amazing duvet.

The moment her skin slid over the soft fibers, they stroked her like fingers, adding to the already sensual sensation every cell in her body was on fire with. She tried not to squirm or rub herself all over the duvet. It was difficult not to move, and she found herself, as she bathed in the light, feeling as though a spotlight shone directly on her. She couldn’t help moving subtly, letting the duvet send little sparks of electricity dancing through her bloodstream.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?”

His voice floated to her on those beams of sunshine. She could see her breasts rising and falling, and she found the sight sexy, when she’d never thought of herself that way. She was connected with Taviano, and maybe some of his thoughts had crept into her mind, but for whatever reason, that added to the need rising in her like a tidal wave.

“So sexy. I want you to see me as someone beautiful and sexy. Someone desirable.”

The chair creaked as he rose and walked slowly toward her. Ordinarily, it was impossible to hear a Ferraro walking, but he came across the floor deliberately making sounds. She turned her head to look at him, to watch him come to her.

Taviano was barefoot, his shirt off, wearing only his trousers. His upper body was all muscle and he looked powerful. So much more so than any man she’d ever been around. When he moved, muscles rippled, from his thick chest all the way to the vee disappearing into the pinstriped material of his slacks.

He didn’t stop, he just kept walking until he was at the bottom of the bed and then he put a knee on it and was right there, his mouth on hers, kissing her until she couldn’t think, couldn’t be afraid of anything, because he transported her back into that wonder world of pure sensuality.